by David Ekrut
“They didn’t. But the murderer isn’t a problem for anyone any more.”
“Good,” she grunted, surprised to feel growing respect for the kid.
He turned back onto a main road and pointed. “The building is at the end on the left. The woman who owns the place goes by the name of Coin.”
“Huh,” Jesnia said. “So Coin is a woman, eh?”
“Yeah. And she pays us to do jobs for her sometimes. You better hurry though. There were a dozen wagons earlier. By the looks of things, she didn’t plan to return.”
“Dragons take me,” she said, moving at a sprint. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I don’t think it’ll matter,” Landryn’s voice called after her. “She’s probably gone by now.”
By the time she reached the warehouse, she slowed to a trot. The large door stood open. Some papers burned on a stove in the corner, but the place was otherwise empty. Wagon tracks led to the southern wall. The stones had been knocked outward, the hole tall enough for wagons to fit through. That had been the sound of the crash.
She dashed through, running down the embankment to the river. A boat was just beginning to drift away from a half-dozen empty wagons. Pulling her bow, she released an arrow as she ran. It struck a robed figure standing beside a stack of crates. He fell with a cry. By the time she reached the water, she had drawn and loosed twice more, felling two more targets. Knowing the vessel had moved beyond range, she shot one last arrow and watched it fall short. A woman with golden hair ran onto the deck and peered toward the riverbank.
Jesnia watched Coin until the ship disappeared around the bend. She’d only been seconds away from catching her bounty. If she hadn’t stopped to chat with the orphans, she would be well on her way to collecting her earnings.
She marched up the embankment and back through the hole in the outer wall of the city into the warehouse. Some of the burning papers had escaped the fire and flittered about. Jesnia caught one and threw it to the ground. After stomping the fire out, she inspected what was left of the writing. Much of it was charred and indistinguishable, but enough of the details remained for her to ascertain the gist.
Several of the words were marked out with corrections squeezed between the lines. The letter spoke of the Awakening with the writer of the script claiming responsibility for devising the incantation of Severance—whatever that was—for the dragons’ return. The author demanded clemency for ‘perceived’ crimes and safe passage through the conclaves. And he required access to the libraries immediately; otherwise, he would give every elementalist he found the secrets of defeating the traps. The message ended with promises of devastation to all magi if harm was to befall him. It was signed R. Beratum.
Was this R. Beratum with Coin? It didn’t matter. The man was clearly mad and vying for power within these conclaves. Responsible for waking the dragons? Ridiculous. Jesnia let the letter fall to the ground. Whatever the conflict between the so-called magi and the elementalists, it had nothing to do with her. Besides, a partial name wasn’t much to go by. Still, it would not do any harm to stop at one of the magi shops that had popped up in the last month to inquire about Beratum.
In the meantime, maybe Landryn knew where Coin was headed. He’d taken jobs for the woman, and he was quite astute. She retraced her steps back to where she’d left Landryn. The orphan was long gone, of course. She leapt back across to where she’d met the boy.
The sounds of fighting rang out in the distance. Another building collapsed somewhere southeast of her. Ignoring the distant threat, she focused on her task.
There was no sign of Landryn, but the horde of children had left plenty of tracks. She followed their trail to a wooden house, three stories high. Just as she reached for the handle, the door opened. Landryn all but ran into her. He wore a bulging pack, as did the team of children behind him. He stopped in the doorway. His hand went to the hilt of his sword reflexively.
“Well,” Jesnia said, placing her hands to her twin blades. “Going somewhere?”
“Yes,” he said, making as if to move around her, but she blocked his way. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the city is under attack. We are going north.”
“Following after Coin are you? What, she didn’t have room on her ship?”
He only stared at her, still gripping his weapon. “Would you please step aside?”
“Where is she going?”
Another crashed sounded, this one much closer. Jesnia turned to see the outer wall crumbling. A mass of armed men spilled into the streets.
“Dragons take me,” Landryn said. “Move.”
Jesnia stood firm. “Tell me where Coin is headed, or we find out if you can actually use that blade when Bain’s troops flood these streets.”
“Once we are safe and far away from here, I will tell you where to find her.”
“Tell me now.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “If we die, you’ll never know.”
The larger force of soldiers pouring into the city had broken off, moving west toward the market. But a small group of thirty or so ran in Jesnia’s direction.
“Stubborn boy. Fine. Move.”
Landryn exited the building, allowing room for the children to leave. He waited until the last child was out before following.
Drawing her bow, Jesnia notched an arrow and loosed. She aimed for it to fall short in an attempt to dissuade the soldiers from advancing. The shaft struck the ground beneath the lead man’s feet. He didn’t flinch. That was when she realized the soldiers were not human. Skin sloughed off the faces of several. Dark fog leaked from their eyes. They were skeletal warriors.
But how was that even possible without taming the Elements?
She drew and fired two arrows. Both hit their marks, the eye sockets of two in the lead. Their heads rocked back at the same time. They stumbled. Then, they continued to run, arrows protruding from their faces.
“Right,” she said, backing away. “Time to go. Don’t stop until I say otherwise.”
For once, Landryn didn’t argue.
Chapter 16
Enemy’s Rights
Lendantis,
I can now confirm, the Keepers meddle with powers that are better left untouched. We can remain idle no longer. Despite my best efforts, there is no bringing Beratum back from this path. The inhumane experimentation on the elementalists is deplorable beyond redemption. I request a relocation stipend for my move to Churwood, and I will require the book of sending to receive transcripts of Beratum’s missives in my absence.
~Anetia Melcoa, 2995 A.S.
~
As Bain approached Weatherford, he pushed back the cowl of his green cloak and adjusted his sword belt for easy access. He’d parted from his army a tenday ago. By now, their troops would be close to Benridge. It had taken all his faith and will power to leave the work to his son. Now, he was here, exposed to his enemies.
This far northwest, it was unlikely anyone would recognize him, but he still felt nervous as he walked toward the two Guardians of Life in charge of the city gate. Bain gripped his sword hilt beneath his cloak to keep his hand from trembling. He’d expected Alcoan soldiers, not the guardians.
The twenty savants behind him urged their wagon of minor artifacts forward. Another gift from Abaddon’s castle. None of the touched items were very powerful, but the sheer volume of them might give him the leverage necessary to barter for one of greater potency.
“Name and business,” the guardian said without looking up from his ledger.
“I am Mardic of Mansworth,” Bain said, “and these are my men. We have a fresh shipment of touched items.”
“Touched items? From where?”
“We acquired them in the south.”
“The south? As in from Bain Solsec?”
“Aye,” he said with a wry grin. “We took his caravan in the night. Never saw us c
oming.”
“Yeah? Were there any Seeker-thumpers?”
Bain flinched at one of the new derogatory terms for elementalists, but the guardian didn’t appear to notice.
“Aye,” he told the man, hoping his voice sounded relaxed. “We killed them first.”
The guardian nodded his approval. “The only good accursed is a dead accursed if you ask me.”
Not trusting himself to speak, Bain gave what he hoped was a stoic smile.
“Anyway,” the guardian said. “You’ll need to register your spoils and pay the proper tax to the magistrate. Do you have a manifest?”
Glad to return to the script he’d prepared, Bain took the scroll from his inner pocket and proffered it to the man. “We documented them as best we could.” He licked his lips and added, “We are no Seeker-spawn.”
“Quite a list. You know where it was headed?”
“We sacked the caravan at the Southern Crossing just after it turned toward Benbrook. My guess is that’s where they were heading.”
“Benridge actually, across the river. You can thank the Lifebringer you weren’t caught by a larger force. Scouts tell us troops are mobilizing for an attack.”
“Is that why guardians are working the gates?”
“Yep. Just doing our duty to protect the city. The soldiers and guards’ve all gone east to prepare for battle. Waste of effort if you ask me. With the dragons come back, Bain’s impotent. Can’t tame a flicker of smoke without bringing the Lifebringer’s wrath down on him. War’s as good as done. We’ve rounded up most of the accursed here for execution. Once Arinth’s rid of the vermin, the dragons’ll go back to their caves and leave us goodly folk alone.”
Bain’s hand tightened on his hilt, and he could feel his heartbeat quicken. He forced his fingers to relax and said, “We can only pray it to be so.”
“All right, Mardic. You and your companions are free to enter.” He handed the scroll back to Bain, who returned it to his pocket. “The shipment’ll be kept for appraisal. Before the goods are released back to you, ten percent of the tax’ll be due. This a problem?”
“Nay,” Bain said. “How long will the process take?”
“Normally a day or two, but I reckon this’ll take a few tenday or more.”
“Hmm,” Bain said. “Is there a way to expedite the process. I have business to the north.”
“Afraid not.” The guardian shrugged. “Magistrate’s backed up. With the bounty on the Seeker-touched on the rise, there’s been an influx of spoils.”
“Bounty?”
“Aye,” he said, glancing at Bain’s sword. “If you’re any good with that, there’s a fortune to be gained for each of the accursed fools you catch. We have a wanted list for Seeker-spawn in every inn and tavern in the city. Those who’ve brought dragons down upon the goodly folks have a higher bounty. They’re worth more alive, but no one asks any questions if you drop a Seeker-thumper’s head on the inquisitor’s desk.”
The guardian’s laugh sent a grating chill down Bain’s spine.
When he had accepted Abaddon’s offer of power all those years ago, this had been exactly what he had feared would become of his kind. And he had been right. If the guardians were not defeated, they would hunt his people to extermination. The elementalists had chosen the wrong side by placing their trust in Thirod instead of Bain, but all the gifted were his, even those fools who had opposed Bain’s attempts to save them. There would be no opposition from the elementalists now.
The smug look on the guardian’s face made his insides twist. It took every effort of strength not to tame Fire and burn the lickspittle to cinders.
“You all right, mate?”
He wanted to breathe smoke.
“Yes,” Bain said, voice tighter than he’d intended. “Yes. It has been a long road. Would you recommend a good tavern?”
“Aye. Yeah. My preferred watering post is the Endless Cup. Happy journeys.”
“Thanks, friend,” Bain said as he walked past the guardian.
His men followed, leaving the wagon with a team of guardians just inside the city, then they fell into step behind him, marching with practiced rhythm.
Ferious moved to Bain’s side. “I thought you were going to kill that guardian.”
“The Father’s instructions were clear. Our war with the guardians must wait.”
“I admire your strength, my liege. It’s difficult to … ”
As Ferious trailed off, Bain followed his lieutenant’s gaze to a caravan of prison wagons. The metal cages were filled to bursting with a haggard group of people. Many of the prisoners wore robes with emblems of elementalist guilds stitched on their lapels or embroidered on their backs. Some were dressed in plain clothes with no obvious signs of their status. But Bain could sense their essences, those who still had one. Bain tried to still his own essence to look dormant, but he was too late.
“Help us,” one of the prisoners called.
He met eyes with the woman. Every part of her face pleaded for him to save her. Many others wore similar expressions. He gave them a terse shake of his head and looked away. Even from his periphery, he could see her hopes die.
He swallowed the taste of bile and said in a hoarse whisper, “Keep moving.”
Bain quickened his steps and turned right at the crossroad toward the noble’s district. Fewer travelers walked the road, but there were more patrols which thinned further away from the gate. Most merchants hired their own mercenaries to police their estates.
Many of these properties had their gates boarded. Most of the richest merchants were elementalists, several likely in those cages back there.
“Can you believe it has come to this?” Ferious asked. “Of course you can. This is as you predicted.”
“We should save them,” Lana said from behind. Several of the others echoed her agreement.
They were right, of course. None of their kind deserved to be caged just for being what they were, not even enemies.
“We have our mission,” he said, but his words sounded hollow, even in his own ears. The rest of their walk to the large estate at the end of Merchant’s Road was silent.
Two mercenaries stood in front of the open gate. The one on the left nodded to Bain as he approached.
“You Mardic?”
“Aye,” Bain said.
“This way.”
He pivoted and marched down the cobbled path. Colorful fauna lined the walk. White trees topped with large leafs stood like columns every few paces, leading to a modest home of four stories. A short balcony protruded from the top floor and expanded half the size. Though Bain could not see beyond the railing, he guessed the top floor to contain the lord’s suite. Several hounds stood at attention near the entrance, watching the procession of men with keen interest.
“They are well-trained,” Bain noted.
“Aye. Master Treadfor trained them himself. They only answer to Kalicodian commands.”
“I did not realize Treadfor had ties to the desert nation,” Bain lied. Treadfor had once been a suo saizor to the Grayfist clan. After disgracing his leader, Treadfor had escaped fighting in the pits by fleeing to Alcoa, like so many Kalicodians.
“He has ties to every nation,” the mercenary boasted. “Most of his trade is within Alcoa.”
Bain knew that to be a lie, but the deception made sense. The Kalicodians paid hefty bounties on escaped slavas.
The guard opened the front door, revealing an accordion staircase, wrapping around from two sides to a balcony. A hall beneath the balcony opened to a grand room with lavish furnishings. Servants in green livery held trays aloft.
“Your men can wait through there,” the guard said.
Bain nodded to Ferious and Lana, who led the way for the others. Ferious wasted no time in removing a glass of white wine from a tray. Lana took a red.
&n
bsp; “Master Treadfor is this way.” The guard gestured to the second floor.
Bain continued following the mercenary up the stairs to a wide hall. A multitude of animal heads decorated the walls. Dozens of objects covered with eloiglyphs rested on short, flat columns.
A tall man with darkened skin stood beside a thick podium with gold gilding. Inside a glass case was a silver statue of a dragon. Rubies lined the wings and long tail. Dark slits beneath the rounded amethysts gave the eyes a serpentine appearance. As he neared, he could see the eloiglyphs etched into the scales. When he came close enough to read the markings, his heart sank.
This artifact was more powerful than those in his wagon, but it would not bolster tamings or heighten the strength of his essence. Nothing less would do. Despite being exquisitely crafted, the statue would only aid with feats of Fire and would provide its bearer with some minor wards against tamings.
“Leave us,” Treadfor said to his mercenary.
The mercenary saluted then exited back down the stairs. Once the man was firmly out of sight, Treadfor dropped to one knee.
“My liege.”
“Rise before someone sees you.”
“Forgive me.”
He stood as swiftly as he had knelt. Despite being exiled from his homeland for more than a decade, the Kalicodian wore merchant’s purple, much like those common to Eoiasis.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Bain said. He pointed to the silver dragon. “Is this the artifact you spoke of in your report?”
“Aye. I have a few others, but none with as much potency as this.”
“Have you tested it?”
“No. It is made for a Fire master. And, as per your instructions, I have not tamed a breeze since the dragons returned. Have I displeased you?”
“No,” Bain said. “You have done well.”
“But you are disappointed with the artifact.” It was not a question.
“You were always astute, Treadfor, which is why you have risen so far after fleeing your home with nothing, all those years ago.”
“You are kind, my liege.” After a brief bow, he asked, “Is the artifact not strong enough?”
